


In This Hell of a Season

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Series: Copfic [2]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:17:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man falls dead in Grant Park from a heart attack in the middle of summer, 100-degree temps in Chicago. It should be open and shut, but it never really is with these two Homicide Detectives.</p><p>Prequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/318383">In This Windy City</a> - prior reading is not required, though might add to the flavor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In This Hell of a Season

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Kelly's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/pseuds/kelleigh) birthday :-*
> 
> Title from The Black Keys

  


Jared hits snooze four, five times, ignoring his alarm as much as he can, but it’s the persistent knocking at his front door that finally drags him from bed. He grabs his cell on the way up, wiping sleep from his eyes, trying to read the unread texts, and stumbling down the hallway all at once. When he opens the front door, he’s a mess and knows it, and he doesn’t really care.

Until he looks up to Jensen, showered, clean-shaven, sharply dressed in a suit and tie. Jensen’s put together and ready for work. Jared is … not.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Jensen says with a smirk. Then his eyes slowly travel down Jared’s body, and that’s when Jared feels even more ridiculous. “What’s up?”

He’s in just boxer briefs thanks to the way his air conditioning unit cut out in the middle of their last case, and with as little time he’s been spending at home lately, he can’t bother to care too much. Sleeping near-nude is better than sweating through everything he owns.

To make matters worse, he can see Jensen’s eyes flick further down, and when Jared glances with him, he notices that he’s sporting morning wood.

Jared hides a bit behind the door, trying like hell to not be obvious about it.

Jensen clears his throat, looks wholly uncomfortable, and slips his hands into his pants pockets as he shifts to the side to stare down the hallway. “How much time you need? I can come back.”

“Not much,” Jared mumbles, earnestly trying to bypass the awkwardness. And embarrassment. This moment does not help anything, given how tense things have been between them for weeks now. Months, really. Or hell, a year or so.

But Jared’s a professional, and he tells himself that as he moves out of the doorway and motions Jensen inside as if there’s nothing wrong at the moment. “You want coffee?”

“Had it on the way in, thanks,” Jensen replies, and he sounds surprisingly level. It’s a slow stroll through Jared’s front room, and Jared realizes for all that they’re in each other’s back pockets, working all hours of the day and night, picking one another up at their respective apartments, they’ve never set foot inside the other’s homes. “Nice place,” Jensen murmurs. “Always wondered what goes on up in Printer’s Row. Obviously not air conditioning.”

Jared nods with a smile and moves into the kitchen, starting up the coffee pot. He needs a few cups himself, and once it’s brewing, Jensen is likely to get on board. “Went out last week, but hasn’t been replaced yet.”

“Gotta love that,” Jensen says dryly.

He smiles and shakes his head. “Just a small price to pay for the location.”

“Neighborhood doesn’t get noisy in the mornings? When the print shops start up?”

He chuckles as he sets out two coffee mugs and makes one last check that the pot’s beginning to brew. “You think I’m here much in the morning?”

When he steps into the living room, Jensen is back to staring, eyes roaming a bit over Jared’s bare shoulders and stomach before resolutely moving back up to his neck.

“I’m always with you,” Jared adds on dumbly. Then he gets lost in a tense silence, one that’s been more prevalent lately.

“Yeah, like gum on my shoe,” Jensen replies quickly. His smile quirks as he turns to take in more of Jared’s apartment.

Jared breathes easily, thankful for Jensen redirecting his attention. As Jared passes him on his way out of the kitchen, he pats Jensen’s shoulder then playfully shoves him away. “I should be just a couple minutes.”

“Is that really all you need?”

The play is still there in Jensen’s voice and when Jared glances back from halfway down the hall, Jensen’s seeming to be halfway interested … in something about him, and it makes Jared’s stomach burn. He really wishes there was a way to nip this all in the bud, but that’s highly unlikely. For all that Jensen’s charming and whip smart, he’s incredibly private about all else in his life. They’ve been partners for two years now and Jared still can’t get a great read on him. Isn’t that just sad? Considering it’s Jared’s _job_ to figure out what people aren’t saying up front, it really fucking sucks.

“Such a waste,” Jensen adds on with one quick, warm look before he moves to the couch.

This isn’t the first time for double entendres, but it’s the first time for them to be tossed around Jared’s apartment while he’s in a serious state of undress.

“Don’t take too long,” Jensen says, voice back to something resembling work. “We’ve got a body that won’t be warm for much longer.”

“It’s 150 degrees out there,” Jared calls from his bathroom as he turns on the shower. There’s not much time for the regular morning routine, but he could use a quick, cold rinse, if the dampness along his hairline and back is anything to believe.

“You’re so overdramatic,” Jensen yells back, though it’s just barely heard over the shower.

“How the hell you gonna function in that suit?” Jared shouts as he quickly scrubs down with what’s left of his bar of soap. “When you start bitching about polyester suffocating you, you’ll get no sympathy from me.”

“It ain’t polyester, you savage.”

Jared starts at the sound of Jensen’s voice clear and close. Through the thin, white shower curtain, he can make out the outline of Jensen at the doorway to the bathroom and he shivers in a way that he can’t blame on the cold shower. Jared turns to face the stream, letting the freezing water run down the front of his body and relishing the instant relief over his belly and down, cooling all parts of him that are heating up with the thought of Jensen standing so near while he’s fully naked. While he’s in the shower and all slicked up.

He pushes hair of his face and grabs tight, groaning at the image of them in here, together.

It’s not the first time Jared’s imagined it.

“You okay?” Jensen asks slowly.

It is, however, the first time that he has to tamper it down, that he can’t expand on the thoughts that he regularly has about Jensen, all because Jensen is still _right there_.

Jared shuts off the water and clears his throat, running hands over his hair to squeeze out the excess water. “Yeah. Can you pass me the towel there?”

There’s shuffling, a few little _hmm_ noises, and Jensen snorts. “You don’t have a single clean towel in here.”

“There’s gotta be one,” Jared insists as he peeks from behind the shower curtain. “That one, there,” he says, pointing at one on the sink.

Jensen raises an eyebrow as he, too, points at a balled up piece of terrycloth.

Jared chuckles then reaches forward with his fingers wiggling. “You gonna help me out or what, man?”

A smile flickers over Jensen’s face as he raises both eyebrows and grabs the towel. He snaps it near Jared’s face. “How much help you need?” he taunts while laughing. “Little Jared can’t dry himself off?”

“I ain’t so little,” he taunts.

Jensen folds the towel over his crossed arms. “Really now?”

Jared grins, but still whines. “Dude, c’mon. Gimme the fucking towel.”

“Or else?” Jensen grins right back, practically holding the towel hostage.

It’s a bit of a standoff with Jared trying like hell to not smile, but failing so badly when he can’t resist Jensen’s playful look.

Finally, Jared whips the curtain open and steps up to Jensen as if there’s no issue that he’s ass naked and soaking wet. He yanks the towel from Jensen’s hands, taking full advantage of the way Jensen stalls and focuses on Jared’s closeness, and wraps it around his waist.

“That wasn’t so hard was it,” Jared complains as he turns to the mirror and finger-combs through his hair.

Jensen turns away, but Jared can see in the mirror that on Jensen’s way out of the room, he takes one quick look at Jared, eyes never going higher than his waist.

 

  


Jared and Jensen stroll across the lawn off of Columbus Drive, doing their best to avoid the crowd of workers who are doing anything but working. The park is littered beyond belief from a weekend music festival, but the Chicago Park District crew is gathered around the ring of yellow police tape that blocks off the crime scene instead.

Jensen pulls up on the tape, just a foot or two, but it gives Jared room to slip under with Jensen following.

“What d’we got?” Jared asks as they approach Medical Examiner Samantha Ferris crouching over a male body. Immediately, Jared logs the overweight victim as mid-30s, Hispanic, married or divorced given the tan line on his left ring finger, and that he must be part of the clean-up crew with a bandana across his forehead, worn-down Dickies pants, and construction boots.

“Not a whole heck of a lot,” Ferris replies without looking up. She turns the victim’s hand over and inspects the stretch of tan skin then checks the other arm. She breathes upwards, air flicking the hair falling loose from her ponytail, then gives Jared a tired look. “It’s damned hot out here.”

“Yeah, it’s too bad murder don’t take a vacation,” Jensen says with a smirk as he crouches near the foot of the body.

“I’m not so sure it’s murder yet,” she says strangely, and Jared wants to groan.

These days, it’s not uncommon for hapless accidents to look like gruesome murders and vice versa. Jared sometimes feels like they spend more time debunking murder than actually tracking down criminals.

“Then why’re we here?” Jared asks.

“Because I thought it’d be good for us to share the heat,” she replies, going back to assessing the victim’s hands. “Misery loves company and all that.”

“When Jared’s miserable I usually leave him at home,” Jensen jokes.

When Jared looks at him, the fucker winks at him and of course, as Jared can’t ever stop looking at Jensen, he almost reads more into it. Almost.

“So, we got a case or what then?” Jared asks. “Because if not, then I’m more than happy to leave you miserable nut jobs out here in the heat.”

Jensen snorts. “Where you gonna go? Back to that sauna of an apartment?”

“I’ve got places I can go,” Jared fires back. Then he feels ridiculous for arguing the point, because it’s not like he’d actually leave. He and Jensen would head back to the station and pick up threads on someone else’s case or clear paperwork. On the other hand, maybe they should find something better to do with their time; he really fucking hates paperwork.

“It’s so cute how much you two are in love,” Ferris mumbles.

Jared frowns at that, wondering if it’s obvious that he maybe looks at Jensen a little too often and for a bit too long. Then he wonders if there’s something from Jensen’s side as well.

“Yeah, he’d make a great wife,” Jensen says. Jared’s about to reply, but Jensen motions at the body and shrugs. “So whose jeans am I staring at?”

“Jesse Aguilera,” Ferris says then rattles off, “Thirty-seven years old, five-foot-nine, 255 pounds. Chicago Park District employee, lived at 43rd and Washtenaw, and apparent victim to a heart attack.”

“Apparent?” Jensen asks.

“His coworkers saw him grab his arm and say he complained of chest pains,” she explains. “And then he dropped and has been out ever since.”

“But you say apparent,” Jared points out.

Ferris leans up to reach the head and slides one eyelid up to show the eyeball with excessively red vessels. “This is a bit extreme for a heart attack, but you never know.”

“Overdose,” Jensen tries.

“Labs will tell,” she says.

“What else you got?” Jared asks as he steps next to her. He leans down to watch her pick under Aguilera’s fingernails with a plastic pick. When she comes up with a mixture of brown and black grime, he frowns. “It’s just dirt, right? From working and all?”

“He’s got abrasions on his left hand and knuckles,” she points out as she bags the pick for evidence.

Jared snorts. “From the fall?”

“Maybe. But they look like they’d started to heal, so I’m tempted to say not.”

“So, semi-recent fight, a day or two back,” Jared says with a shrug.

“How is that related to a heart attack?” Jensen asks skeptically.

“Gimme time, boy,” Ferris scoffs. “Then I’ll tell you.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and stands. He smiles when he faces Jared. “You ready to work?”

Jared shrugs, but he’s smiling as well. “If we must.”

From there, Jared and Jensen split to interview the crowd dwelling beyond the yellow tape. Over and over again, Aguilera’s coworkers tell the same story of the man stretching out his left arm, wincing, then tapping his chest without breath before falling to the ground just minutes after they started working.

Jared figures it’s not uncommon with a man Aguilera’s size in this kind of heat.

“Did he have any previous medical conditions, medications, regular doctors’ appointments?” Jared asks one of the bystanders, a Mark Courtland who’s worked with Aguilera for six months.

“What do I look like?” Courtland complains. “His friggin’ wife?”

“No, of course not,” Jared says with a light laugh. “Just figured, you’re out here all hours of the day with the guy, you might’ve talked a bit about a thing or two.”

“Yeah, and that thing or two is usually about the chicks in the tiny shorts and bikinis, ya know?” he says with a nudge at Jared. When Jared fails to reply, Courtland adds, “It’s the one upside to working the summers.”

Jared clears his throat and glances towards the group Jensen’s working and wonders if he’s got any better information coming his way. He grips his notepad and releases it quickly so he doesn’t ruin it with his sweaty palms. “Yeah, alright, so you check out girls and clean the park. Anything else?”

“Happy hour every day or so.”

That makes Jared perk up, thinking of the marks on Aguilera’s hands. “That a regular thing for you guys?”

Courtland shrugs. “Yeah, pretty regular. Cold beer on a hot day is better than water in the desert.”

“How much cold beer?”

The guy laughs like he wants to brag about how much but quickly sobers up, and Jared imagines Courtland suddenly remembers he’s talking to a cop. “We’re responsible drivers.”

“I’m sure,” Jared mutters. “Look, I’m not gonna lecture you on drinking and driving. I’m more interested in your dead buddy and how much he’s putting back at the end of the day. Enough to start fights?”

“Oh, no, never,” Courtland defends instantly and there’s something soft in his voice that begs Jared to believe him. “Jesse’s the happiest-go-luckiest guy I’ve ever met. He’s a pretty happy drunk, and when he’s sober, man, he’s the best guy to have on your side.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Jesse would cut off his leg for anyone. Fix cars, mow lawns, help ya move. I knew the guy for just three weeks when he came over and helped me haul a new dresser up to my third-floor walk-up.”

“So, you know him pretty well then?”

“Fairly, sure,” Courtland agrees.

“He have any other vices besides the drinking?”

Courtland eyes Jared sharply then barks out, “Like what?”

Jared holds in his sigh, looking up at the sun beating down on him, and wiping some sweat from his temple with the cuff of his suit jacket. He’s about fry out here, sun or not, so he tries to sound a little playful to ease the accusation. “Maybe trouble with some other friends or people in his neighborhood?”

“What’re you thinking, huh?” he asks, sounding haughty and offended on his deceased coworker’s behalf. “Jesse is a good guy. Just ‘cause he lived in a shit neighborhood doesn’t mean he’s shit, too. He was laid off from his fancy Downtown job and has been doing this just to put bread on the table, and you’re gonna accuse the man of – ”

“Alright, okay,” Jared says carefully, hands up between them. “I’m just asking, okay?”

“He had a heart attack, why the hell does all this other shit matter?”

“We’re the police. We have to ask the tough questions.”

Courtland sighs like he’s tired and has run out of steam. He waves his hand at Jared as he turns away. “Man, ask someone else. I ain’t got shit to say.”

When Jared and Jensen meet back up and head back to the car, Jared asks, “Hopefully you got something good? All I seemed to do was walk all over a dead guy’s grave.”

“Nothing major,” Jensen says with a shrug. “He was a decent guy, lending a helping hand all the time, his kids and wife at home –”

“Kids and wife?” Jared asks quickly. “Really?”

“Yeah, why?”

Jared glances around, mindful of the crowds gathered on the edge of the crime scene, and he waits until they’re inside the sedan to talk. “Mark Courtland sounds like one of his good buddies, and he says they always checked out the,” Jared pauses to check his notes and repeats, “ _chicks in the tiny shorts and bikinis_.”

Jensen laughs and shakes his head as he starts the car up, hot air forced through the vents before the air conditioning can run. It’s blowing hard and stifling, shoving Jared’s hair off his face, and the only good point is that the sweat all over his face, in his hair, and along his neck can dry. Jensen’s still laughing, but Jared’s sure it’s now due to his hair suddenly sprouting wings.

“You don’t think married guys suddenly go all monogamous and celibate now do ya?” Jensen asks.

“No, I’m just saying …” Jared drifts off when he realizes he has no concrete point here. In their job, they see plenty of cheating and backstabbing between husbands and wives, girlfriends, boyfriends, crushes, whatever. Love can make people do crazy things, or can be lost entirely too soon. “If he’s such a good guy, why’s he looking?”

“Like you never look? Never check out a girl in a bar or just walking down the street?”

Jared’s ready to say _no_ , but that’s more because they’re not his type and he spends most of his time checking Jensen out.

Even so, he’s never gotten an honest answer on Jensen’s preference, though his occasional wayward glances seem to say he returns Jared’s feelings. Based on that Jared challenges right back, “When’s the last time you checked some girl out? Went after her and took her home?” Instead of replying, Jensen lets out a short laugh, and Jared tries another avenue. “Maybe a guy?” he asks flatly, but carefully watches Jensen’s expression.

Jensen narrows his eyes before putting on a smile that’s likely too forced, then puts the car in gear. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

And damn, if that ain’t the burning question.

 

  


As soon as Jensen pulls the sedan into a parking spot a few doors down from Aguilera’s home, Jared notices the few gatherings of neighbors on various front steps are quieting up and staring. Their watchful attention remains on Jared and Jensen as they take the stairway up to the raised front porch and Jensen knocks.

Jared pushes his damp hair off his forehead and takes in the neighborhood as they wait for someone to answer the door. Many of the homes have shingling for siding, and most are worn down without proper fixes. He then notices that a few of the neighbors scatter from their groups, heading back inside or moving further away to continue whispering to one another.

It’s par for the course, though perhaps worse than normal. Jared hopes these people will talk when if the need arises.

The door slowly slides open and they can barely see a dark head above the lower frame of the screen door. Jared steps closer and realizes it’s a young girl, 10 at least, maybe 12, and he immediately drops his voice, soft and caring. “Hi there. Is your mama home?”

When the girl looks up, her eyes are rimmed red and the end of her nose blotchy. Before Jared can ask if she’s okay, another woman, presumably her mother or aunt given her young looks, rushes to the door and tugs the little one away. “Lo siento,” she says immediately, then turns behind her to tell the girl, “Regresate a la cama” When she turns to the door again, she’s frowning and obviously frazzled. “Lo siento, agentes.”

“De nada,” Jensen says lightly. “Perdon, pero es usted Sofia Aguilera?”

“Si, si” she replies softly while placing her hand over her heart. “¿Qué pasa?”

Jensen glances at Jared, widens his eyes for a second, and Jared shakes his head a little, unsure why Jensen’s not continuing on. Jensen glances back over his shoulder and mumbles, “I’m blanking.”

Jared rolls his eyes and snorts before moving closer to the screen. He’s not great at this, either, but he’ll try and shamelessly fail. “Senora, esposo … es Jesse?”

Here she pauses and looks between Jared and Jensen each for a strange amount of time until she replies. “Yes, Jesse.”

“Ma’am, por favor, uh … entre?”

“What’d he do?”

“Oh thank God,” Jensen sighs.

Jared does, too, murmuring, “She speaks English.”

“What happened? Did Jesse do something?” she asks quickly with a slight accent.

“Ma’am, can we come in and talk to you?” Jensen asks kindly.

They can see her hand come up to the door handle, but she doesn’t open the screen just yet. “¿Por qué?”

“Mrs. Aguilera,” Jared starts softly. “Your husband died this morning.”

Jared has seen all sorts of responses to this kind of information. A majority of the time it’s instant crying, disbelief and yelling, or quiet shock. Slowly, Sofia glances over her shoulder, tucks dark strands of hair behind her ear when she looks at Jared again, and offers a small smile and nods as she lets them inside.

Jensen and Jared share a look as they enter the small raised ranch. In seconds, the widow is clearing a handful of empty beer bottles from the kitchen table and motioning them to sit on the nearby couch. The furniture is fairly nice considering the state of the outside of the home and this neighborhood. Jared remembers Courtland saying Jesse had been laid off and only started working for the park district six or seven months back.

Sofia sits at the edge of a nearby arm chair, hands loosely clutched in her lap. She has that same awkward smile on her face when she asks, “What happened to Jesse?”

“We think it was a heart attack at work,” Jared says carefully.

“It’s very hot out today.”

“Yes, it is,” he replies slowly. “Mrs. Aguilera, did your husband have a heart condition or other medical conditions?”

Her face is still simply controlled, nothing slipping past to show pain or trouble with the news, and Jensen glances at Jared before he asks his own questions. “Ma’am, was that your daughter who answered the door?”

“Yes, Rosa.”

“Is she feeling well? She looked kinda,” and he motions at his face.

“Oh, yes,” she says quickly, nodding. “She has a cold, but she’s okay. She’ll be better now.”

Jared freezes, feeling his breath catch at that. It’s an odd thing, a cold in this heat, and how quickly she’s responding. Sure, this woman is facing the news that her husband is dead and probably compartmentalizing everything, but the air feels thick even with the air conditioning keeping the room a cool. “Now?”

“Yes, she has medicine, and she’s feeling better. She slept a lot today.”

Jared smiles and nods. “That’s good to hear.”

“Mama,” the little girl says from the hallway, forcing all three adults to look over. “Jesse is gone?”

“Oh, mija,” she coos as she goes to her daughter. She pulls her up into her arms, kisses her cheek, and insists she goes back to bed.

Once they’re left alone again, Jensen asks the question burning in Jared’s brain. “She calls him Jesse?”

“Yes. He is their step-father. _Was_ their step-father,” she corrects quickly.

Jared glances at Jensen at that.

“Their? You have other children?” Jensen goes on as Jared’s eyes comb the wall for other family portraits.

Just as Sofia Aguilera describes her son, a sophomore in high school, Jared notices the school picture framed near the kitchen along with a smattering of other family photos. It takes just a few seconds to realize that the two kids are grinning brightly in pictures with their mother or on their own, but any that also have Jesse Aguilera are toned down.

“Was Jesse a good father?” Jared finds himself asking before he can consider how to best phrase the question. He shrugs off Jensen’s sharp look and adds, “It must’ve been hard for them to have a new dad in their lives.”

“Jesse provided for us,” she replies. “He was a responsible man.” Before anyone can say more, she pops up and claps her hands. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to offer you something to drink. Maybe lemonade? It is so very hot outside.”

Jared takes the opening and nods happily even though Jensen’s eying him strangely. “Yes, we’d both love some.”

Once she’s gone from the room, Jared whispers to Jensen, “The photos on the wall. No one smiles with Jesse in the picture.”

Jensen instantly picks up on it, and once they have their drinks in hand, he smiles charmingly and starts talking. “I know how hard it is to bring a new parent into a family. My parents split when I was real young and both remarried. Always hard on the kids.” He softly laughs. “I know it was for me.”

“Rosa and Chris are good kids.”

Jared nods slowly. “I’m sure they are.”

“Never any trouble,” she insists.

There is no way Jared can shake the quick flare beneath his skin for how this conversation is going down, so he clears his throat and decides to keep going. “You mind my asking what happened to Rosa and Chris’s father?”

Here, she freezes, eyes wide and lips turning down in worry. Jared’s ready to jump onto her silence because it’s the first true emotion she’s shown since they arrived, but then she sadly sighs and finally responds. “He and I, we were very young.” She shakes her head. “It just wasn’t meant to be. High school sweethearts shouldn’t last much past high school.”

“How long were you and Jesse married?” Jared prods.

“Five years.” She glances across the room towards the photos on the wall and softly smiles.

“How did you meet?”

“I was a legal secretary, Jesse was a paralegal. Love in the workplace, you know?”

There’s a small nagging feeling on her saying so, as Jared thinks of him and Jensen, constantly circling but never moving forward. He shoves that feeling down and goes on, hoping to get her to open up more the longer they sit. “And he was laid off recently?”

“I quit once we got married and then he was let go two years ago. It’s been very hard to find new work, so we moved here.” Her eyes flick around the living room, and Jared wonders what their last home was like. Maybe oversized rooms and larger, brighter yards. “Things have been … difficult since then.”

Before they can ask what _difficult_ means, the screen door noisily scrapes open and the front door pops in to show Chris, her son, entering. He’s a bit tall for his age, rail thin with his broad shoulders hunched in like he has no confidence.

The teen’s eyes widen at the sight of Jared and Jensen, suited-up cops on the couch, but what Jared notices immediately are the bruises sweeping under his left eye and across his temple. There are a red few marks across his neck, and if Jared could get a closer, long look, he’s certain he’d see the outline of fingers and a thumb.

Jared instantly imagines the fit of the abrasions on Jesse Aguilera’s hands to Chris’s face, and maybe Rosa and Sofia have a few matching marks as well. His stomach bottoms out at the thought of this kid – both of them, this family – being hit by the step-father.

It’s a flurry of Sofia introducing them, apologizing for her son interrupting their talk, and then an awkward silence when the boy keeps his head down and tries to shuffle closer to his mom.

“You okay there?” Jensen asks the son, and Jared watches for the mom’s reaction.

“Yeah, a fight in school,” Chris mumbles.

It’s the tail end of summer, so Jared asks, “Taking extra credits?”

“No,” the boy replies softly.

“Summer school?” Jensen tries.

Sofia runs a hand over her son’s head and softly smiles. “Chris is very smart. He really likes to study.”

“Yeah, I do,” Chris mumbles. Then his voice gets stronger when he asks, “What’s wrong? Is Rosa okay?”

“Rosa is fine. She’s in bed, still sick. Very sick,” she adds on quickly.

Jared just barely pays attention to Jensen explaining the circumstances; he’s too honed in on Chris’s face tensing with the news of his step-father before the boy’s expression eases up with some sort of relief.

“You don’t look too surprised,” Jensen asks slowly.

Chris shakes his head and asks what happened, fumbling with words along the way.

“He had a heart attack,” Jensen explains.

“I better check on Rosa,” Chris says immediately, sliding past his mom to the hallway towards the bedrooms.

Jared doesn’t care how obvious it is that he and Jensen check on each other; he’s interested in how Sofia Aguilera will react to their suspicion.

Finally, Jared clears his throat and offers her a small smile. “Ma’am, you mind if we look around a little?”

“For what?” she asks, startled for the first time since they showed up.

“It’s procedure in homicides,” he explains then instantly wants to swallow the words back up.

“Jesse had a heart attack. Why do you say homicide?”

Jensen pats Jared’s back as if acknowledging the small slip-up without reprimanding him for it. “My partner misspoke. We just like to make sure everything’s okay at home before we move on. In all cases of death.”

Somehow, she keeps with the calm façade and sadly apologizes for her son’s behavior, and then insists she must be with her children.

“Mrs. Aguilera,” Jared tries kindly.

“Lo siento, pero … mija is so sick. I must help her.”

Even with the funny feeling burrowing in his gut, Jared doesn’t want to push just yet. Not until they have more than intuition leading them.

Jared and Jensen each offer her a business card, insisting she call for any reason at all, and leave the home. Just a few steps towards the sidewalk and Jensen insists, “I’ll take the house to the left, you go right.”

 

  


Even with the state of Chris Aguilera’s face and a damn good hunch, Jared and Jensen get little to no information from the neighbors. Very few would open their doors more than half a foot to even look at their badges. After a long day interviewing, they’d decided to hit the database for anything on Jesse Aguilera in the morning.

Jared drums his fingers on his desk and sighs when his search again comes empty of anything useful. “I just wanna get in that guy’s room.” Jensen lifts an eyebrow and Jared rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Patience, grasshopper.”

“I don’t have patience. Or evidence. Or even a lead to walk with.”

“Hey, I got an idea.” Jensen doesn’t bother looking away from his research, but he does point towards Jared as he continues. “How about you tap your fingers on those keys and try to finds us one?”

“I hate your attitude today,” Jared mumbles.

“Just today, huh?” he asks, distracted still by his work.

Jared has to admit that being cooped up in the station is never any good for either of them. Short fuses in small places, 90-100-degree temperatures outside, and no one’s in a good mood. “It’s not like you’re doing any good over there either.”

“Bar brawl in 2005,” Jensen says slowly as he keeps reading the screen in front of him. “Disorderly conduct in 2007.”

Jared leans around his own monitor to watch Jensen. “And?”

“And,” Jensen sighs. “It states a pattern of violence.”

He’s not sure there’s much to it; Jared’s been following Aguilera’s educational and professional life for the past three hours and nothing pops. Still, he asks, “What happened in ’07?”

Jensen looks back at his screen, eyes moving side to side as he reads, and Jared takes the moment to stare and appreciate the angle he gets of Jensen’s nose, cheekbone, and jaw.

“You boy scouts got anything?” Lieutenant Beaver asks as he appears at their desks.

Their boss is eying Jared oddly, but Jared brushes it off and motions towards Jensen. “He’s got something on disorderly conduct and a bar fight.”

Beaver’s still watching Jared, and God, Jared’s really gotta cut this shit about Jensen out if his boss is paying any attention.

“What’s the deal with those two?” Beaver asks, finally looking at Jensen.

“In 2005, he got clocked while hitting on a bartender. Assailant was the bartender’s brother, and then everything flew.” He glances up to Beaver with a small smirk. “Punches _and_ barstools.”

“And our guy was at the center of it?”

“More or less,” Jensen says quickly. “Then two years later, he’s picked up on drunken disorderly at the park near his house – ”

“Really?” That really piques Jared’s interest, but Jensen gives him an odd look.

“Oh, don’t sound so surprised,” Jensen smarts off. “His buddy on the park crew told you he was a drinker and his wife is clearing beer bottles off the table in the middle of the afternoon.”

Jared puts his arms out in the air as he glares at Jensen and is ready to defend himself. He’s getting pissed and annoyed with Jensen’s insistence, been dealing with it all morning, but Beaver gives them each a stern look, so he drops his arms and listens for more.

“What about domestic disturbance?” Beaver asks.

Jensen waits a few beats before he admits, “Nothing yet.”

“What about the wife? The kids? Any trouble there?”

“I’m about to get into that,” Jared offers. He wasn’t, really, but it’s a good diversion at the moment.

Beaver seems to believe him and knocks on the edge of the desk before he grumbles something about them bickering like an old couple then heads to his office, shutting the door behind him.

Jared doesn’t waste time getting into medical records for hospitals in the Aguileras’ neighborhood, and soon enough, he’s got a few dozen hits on the last name at Holy Cross Hospital, two to three miles south. Once he rules out mismatched addresses and names, he finds something for Christian Aguilera from 2006.

He sucks in a breath when he reads the words _Proximal Humerus Fracture_ and rolls his own shoulder in sympathy, daring to imagine how that boy had survived a broken shoulder when he was just 12.

That would explain what Sofia Aguilera meant by the last three years being _difficult_.

Leaning forward on his desk, elbow on the surface and hand covering the lower part of his face, Jared flips through a handful of other hospital records that cover the last three years. There are reports of a visit where Chris had three broken fingers on the same hand, another was diagnosed as a Grade II concussion with associated loss of consciousness and a head wound.

“What is it?”

Jared is startled from the lengthy files that detail the injuries and each emergency room doctor’s suspicions for abuse. Jensen’s watching him carefully and then his eyes go soft for a few moments.

“What’d you find?” Jensen asks, further prompting Jared.

He bites his bottom lip then sighs. “Three years of documented abuse.”

Jensen’s face morphs between surprise, sympathy, and then disgust. “On Chris?”

“Yeah,” he says, dropping his head with a small nod.

“What about the other two?”

“Nothing that I can see.”

Jensen runs a hand over his head, scratching at the base of his skull as he mutters a few angry curses.

Jared drops his head to catch Jensen’s eye. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replies instantly, popping up to watch his screen intently. Before Jared can argue, Jensen offers, “Lunch on me? Then we can hit the neighborhood again and ask about Chris’s last three years.”

There’s likely no good to pushing Jensen on his disappointment over Chris Aguilera’s medical records. And it certainly couldn’t hurt to get back to the neighbors now that there’s something concrete to ask about, so Jared nods and stands up. “Yeah, sure.”

 

  


They’d been brushed off time and time again by neighbors, everyone insisting the family was good, friendly, respectable. When either Jensen or Jared asked someone about Chris’s injuries over the years, responses were typically short and simple; Jesse was a good man, took care of his home and his yard, and lent a helping hand whenever for whatever. A few at least attempted to lie, insisting Chris was tall and gangly, a klutz.

Even though Jared had been skeptical of it doing any good, they stopped at the Aguilera’s church. The monsignor had nothing to report except that all four were in attendance every Sunday, which apparently absolved Jesse from being physically abusive.

“I just hate the idea that this asshole can tap holy water on his forehead and everyone looks the other way,” Jensen rants, ending with a tired sigh.

“Hey, you’re preaching to the choir,” Jared says. “I’m none too happy that everything just got ten times more complicated. We can’t just have a clean heart attack and close the books.”

“You’re pissed about paperwork when we’re dealing with an abused kid?” Jensen asks wildly.

“No!” he replies quickly, trying to calm Jensen with an easier tone. “I’m just saying, everything’s all messed up here.

“Well, I’ve got something simple for you,” Ferris insists when she enters the room with a file of paperwork. “Jesse Aguilera’s cause of death is myocardial infarction.”

“Wow, thank you,” Jensen complains with a roll of his eyes.

Ferris glares at him, which gets Jensen to ease up and drop his crossed arms. He then flips his hand in the air for her to continue. “Okay, grumpy, how about the myocardial infarction was caused by high levels of diacetylmorphine.”

Jared’s mouth pops open and Jensen looks to him for more explanation. “Are you for real? Heroin?”

“Science don’t lie sweetie. And neither does this man’s ass.” Ferris moves to the covered body, flipping the sheet up and pointing at a tiny pinprick with a pale bruise flaring out. It’s just behind the man’s hip, angling towards his back.

Jensen sighs. “God, this guy’s reputation just keeps falling further. Child abuser and now drug addict.”

“Not so fast. I didn’t say addict,” she corrects. “I only found one hole on him. I’m pretty sure this is it.”

“So, what?” Jared asks with a laughable snort. “Guy tries heroin on a whim? Five years in narcotics and I’ve never seen heroin on a first go-round.”

“How about with a drunk who likes to beat kids?” Jensen offers, still haughty.

“I’d say you could be looking for someone who fed it to him.” Ferris taps Aguilera’s back then motions at herself with her fist striking an odd angle. “I don’t know many people who’re willing to crazy eight themselves, especially on a first try.”

“You know many recreational heroin users?” Jared asks with an odd smile and high eyebrow. Before his current two-year stint in homicide, he’d spent time on the drug unit. He knows enough people to connect the dots for something like this in their case.

Ferris laughs sharply. “None that I’ll tell you about, kiddo.”

He chuckles to her smirk then sighs when he considers their new evidence. He glances at Jensen, because he still looks pissed off for whatever reason all of a sudden. “So, what d’you think? Mom got him because he hit Chris?”

Jensen shrugs stiffly. “I’m not sure I see her as the drug buying type.”

“It wouldn’t be so hard to find in that area. Just a few friends of friends or something.”

“The bigger question is many friends have access to true poison?” Ferris asks.

“What?” Jared asks.

“Jesse Aguilera’s labs also show traces of the Victorian’s favorite stimulant, arsenic.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jensen bursts out.

Ferris mocks her fingers like a gun and pulls the trigger. “Ten cent pistol. The heroin slips through the system and a few hours later, the arsenic gets ya. You’re looking at him getting stuck about in the middle of the night.”

Jared thinks on it and lets out an awkward laugh. “I didn’t realize people actually still did that.”

“Yeah, well,” Jensen sighs. “The guy’s smacking his step-son around, I wouldn’t be surprised that someone nailed him good.”

“You think the kid did it?” Jared asks awkwardly. He knows it’s looking possible, but he hates the thought.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he complains. “I’m not saying I wanna haul a 15-year-old in here and give him the Spanish Inquisition.”

“I didn’t say that!” Jared defends instantly. The room’s feeling charged and even Ferris is smiling oddly and backing out of the room with a mumbled excuse.

“Then what _are_ you saying?”

“I don’t know … how about let’s not jump to conclusions yet.”

Jensen spins out of the room with a huffy, “I’m not jumping to conclusions, Jesus Christ.”

Jared thanks Ferris, accepts their copy of the preliminary labs, and follows Jensen down the hallway, trying to calm him down. This morning, Jensen was all fun and games, even mocking him about being a good wife, and now he’s picking fights. “Then what’re you saying?”

As Jensen walks briskly, he talks without one look in Jared’s direction. “I’m just saying, you push someone around enough, they’ll push back.”

“Hey, c’mon,” Jared insists as he nudges Jensen and forces him against the tiled wall near the stairs down to the lobby. There’s something strange here and Jared’s hesitant to get to it, but he wants Jensen to let it out and let it go. “What’re you talking about?” he asks quietly.

Jensen’s eyes are right on Jared, but after a few seconds, they drop off and he pulls Jared’s hands off his shoulders so he can head down the stairs. “Nothing. Let’s get outta here. I’m done with this for today.”

As Jared keeps up with Jensen, he tries, “Hey, good news, though. Ferris says homicide, making the house a crime scene, and we can finally get inside to search.”

“Not until Ferris’s exam is final,” he complains. “And the D.A. gets the paperwork moving.”

“Yeah, but that’ll only take what? A day or two?”

Jensen doesn’t reply, just shoves the front door open and keeps walking.

They’re silent to the car and once Jared’s in the passenger seat, he flips through the file from Ferris. He’s reading quick, so absorbed in her notes on the first pass over Aguilera that he doesn’t realize Jensen hasn’t even started the car until Jensen clears his throat.

Jared glances across the space to find Jensen eying him oddly. Jensen’s hands are poised like he’s ready to drive, one hand wrapped around the top of the steering wheel and the other holding the key in the ignition.

“Yeah?” Jared asks carefully.

Jensen’s eyes run over Jared’s face and he licks the corner of his mouth with a sigh. “You wanna get a drink? I could use something to take the edge off.”

Any other day, Jared figures he would, but despite the sight of Jensen staring him down, licking over his lips and all, Jared’s mind is somehow firmly on the case. He doesn’t know what it is, but something in Chris’s abuse is hitting Jensen hard, and Jared would love to wrap this case up as soon as possible to take away the tension.

“I know this guy,” Jared explains. “He should have a clue on lacing arsenic.”

“At nine o’clock at night?”

Jared’s contact isn’t exactly legal, but he’ll have leads Jared couldn’t get above ground, and the guy owes Jared a favor or two over the years from turning the other way for just a small bit of information on bigger dogs. “He doesn’t exactly keep banker’s hours.”

Jensen raises his eyebrows quickly, and it seems like he’ll sigh again. Instead, he turns the ignition and drives off to drop Jared back at the station to fetch his car.

 

  


Jared’s running on steam. He was up half the night, tracking down his guy, who’s been in hiding after a bad deal with a major drug runner. It was after three in the morning when he was finally face-to-face with the contact and able to drag even an ounce of information from him.

After that escapade, he’d gone home and decided to nap for just half an hour, then got back up, showered, and is now on Jensen’s doorstep with two fresh coffees and a caffeine-induced smile to get them started on the day before the sun makes it unbearable.

It takes a few knocks until the door is pulled open and Jensen is standing in just a pair of boxer briefs, hair messy and eyes barely open against the light from the hallway. “What’re you doing here?” he asks, voice groggier than ever.

Jared tries not to stare, or drool, or something more pathetic like moan at the sight of Jensen half-naked. His breath catches to the point that he almost gargles out his answer. He needs a quick cough to clear himself and he’s back in business and smiles, offering the cup through the foot of space between the door and its frame.

“I’ve got coffee. And a lead. Go on and get ready so we can get a jump on it.”

Jensen accepts the coffee, but barely responds, suddenly distracted by something behind him. When he looks at Jared again, he seems awkward. Nervous even. “I’ll just meet you at the station.”

“Everything alright?” Jared asks carefully. He tries to spy beyond Jensen. All he can spot are clothes strewn across the living room, pants and dress shirts. And then there’s an arm reaching down to grab one of those shirts and tug it onto a decidedly male body.

Jared’s gut drops. It turns over and then seems to drop again for how heavy it feels.

“Sorry,” the guy can be heard mumbling from across the room. “I’ll be out in a few.”

Jensen barely meets Jared’s eyes, mostly looks over his shoulder and back behind him, like he’s unsure who to talk to, or what to say.

Jared’s just as speechless, air stuck in his chest and making him lightheaded. Last night, Jensen had asked him out for a drink, said he had to _take the edge off_ , and he did. With some guy he must’ve picked up from the bar.

On the one hand, Jared’s grateful to be proven that Jensen is into guys and all the tension of the last two years hasn’t been entirely one-sided. But … now Jared’s faced with Jensen ending his one-night stand when it could’ve possibly been Jared inside Jensen’s apartment like this.

Jared shakes his head and turns away to grant Jensen some privacy to end the moment. He even moves a few feet down the hallway, away from the stairway to the front door so the guy can leave without them facing off.

He tries to ease himself from the moment by reminding himself that he’s got his own stupid little code about sex during a case, and he wouldn’t have let it go this far. But just the opportunity to try …

“Sorry about that,” Jensen apologizes, but it’s tense as hell.

Jared schools his expression into something even. He doesn’t have the energy to play it up happily and he certainly doesn’t want to give away his disappointment here. “Nah, it’s fine.”

Jensen pulls his door open and motions Jared in with the coffee still in hand. “Just, hang for a few, and I’ll get ready.”

It’s likely all heightened by his emotional attachment to this moment, but Jared is certain the apartment reeks of sex. He’d rather not stew in the scent of Jensen and someone else for a second longer, so he takes another step away. “It’s fine. I’ll just meet you down at the station.”

A staring match starts up, neither giving anything away, until Jensen nods shortly. “Alright. Fine.” He shuts the door without another word or look, and Jared heads out.

 

  


“What the hell you doin’ here so early?”

Jared slowly brings his head up from his computer screen to find Beaver glaring at him. “Uh, working?”

“You lose a partner recently?” Beaver asks, glances at Jensen’s empty desk.

He takes a deep breath, trying to not relive the morning he’s had. “No, he’ll be here …” Jared wisely leaves the _some time_ or _after he washes his one-night stand away_ unsaid.

“I’m here,” Jensen says a second later. He’s sliding his suit jacket across the back of his chair and easing into the seat, eyes catching Jared’s every few seconds like he’s checking on him.

Jared gives a tight smirk to Beaver and points at Jensen. “See, he’s here.”

Beaver rolls his eyes. “Alright, no reason to be a shit. What’ve you guys got?”

Just so he doesn’t have to look at Jensen, Jared goes ahead. “Ferris says the heart attack was caused by a shot of heroin laced with arsenic.” At Beaver’s skeptical look, Jared chuckles. “Yeah, I know. Who the hell does that? Fuck if I know. Except this guy that I _do_ know from a few years back gave me a couple names for dealers in Aguilera’s neighborhood.”

“Any of them a scientist?” Jensen asks quietly, seeming like he’s trying to tease yet is extremely cautious.

“Not that I can tell from the names,” Jared replies. “But I do recognize a few. One used to hang over by Kelly High School and deal to kids.”

Jensen seems interested in that, even if his voice is still tentative to lay blame. “Maybe deal to Chris?”

Jared shrugs. “Not a far leap. It’s all in the same neighborhood.”

“Alright,” Beaver says firmly, knocking at their desk. “Go run it down and close this thing.”

Jared flings off a two-finger salute and resolutely ignores the fact that Jensen’s still watching him. He hears Jensen clear his throat and pause. Jared just closes down the database on his screen and a few other windows so they can start their day.

“Hey, about this morning-” Jensen starts.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jared insists as he rises and grabs his jacket. “Let’s get down to Kelly and see what Chris’s story is. Maybe he’s gotten into trouble at school before.”

Jensen’s startled with Jared’s abruptness, for sure, but he stands as well and brings his jacket with him as they walk through the bullpen. “It’s the middle of August,” he points out.

Jared steps quickly to keep ahead of Jensen, wanting to do anything but look at him right now for fear his stomach will bottom out once again to see the strange guilt set on Jensen’s face. “Administration’s gotta be in there for summer school and the upcoming semester.”

 

  


“Chris Aguilera?” the Dean, a Mrs. Katherine Cole, asks slowly.

Jared can feel his energy drain down his face, through his chest and legs, and out his toes as if it’s literally leaving him and about to pool on the cheap carpeting of the Dean’s Office. Every minute feels worse than the one before and he needs sleep and some space where he can just not think about the fact that he’s only had a 30-minute nap, had to watch Jensen see a one-night stand off, and now has the displeasure of asking a sweet, elder, high school dean if there is a heroin problem in her school.

Dean Cole types at the keyboard on the counter she’s standing behind, eyes watching the screen as she searches files. “Name doesn’t ring a bell,” she says after a bit, “But yeah, he’s one of ours. Junior starting in two weeks. Three-point-eight GPA. Gold honor roll last semester. No sports or extracurricular activities.”

Jared lifts an eyebrow at that grade point average. Somehow, he’d expected something really low in response to Jesse’s mistreatment. Instead, he feels a little spark come up in his question. “Three-point-eight and it doesn’t ring a bell in this school? A kid like that stands out, don’t you think?”

She straightens her shoulders and stands tall, bristling. “Detective, we see a whole lot of bad in this school, especially in this office. It’s probably a real good thing I don’t know who he is.”

“So, you didn’t know he was being abused at home then I’d guess?”

“Excuse me,” she asks sharply. “Like I could do anything about that anyway?”

“We’ll never know now,” he says airily.

“Alright,” Jensen murmurs as he reaches for Jared’s shoulder and tries to nudge him to the side. The second Jensen’s touching him, Jared wrenches away and shakes his head and shoulders out, trying to calm himself down. He knows he’s out of line already, but it’s not like he can take it back, and Jensen stepping in isn’t helping.

Jensen shoots him an oddly look as he steps up to the counter, but when he speaks calmly to the dean, he’s almost sadly smiling. “Forgive my partner. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s nine in the morning,” she replies flatly.

He shrugs and smirks a little. “Yeah, well, we don’t sleep much on the job, so …”

Dean Cole sighs and lets her shoulders drop, appearing way less intimidating or offended. “So, Chris Aguilera. He was abused at home?”

“Yeah,” Jensen nods. “Likely by his step-dad.”

“No offense, detectives, but what does that have to do with my school?”

“His step-dad had a heart attack two days ago, assisted by an illegal substance.”

She eyes them both and Jared grits his teeth to keep from messing up what Jensen’s cleaned up so far. “And you wanna know if there’s a drug problem here?” When Jensen motions in question, she sighs. “I have 3200 kids, all from low to _extremely low_ incomes, and the neighborhood has fallen apart in the last decade. We do what we can here to get kids an education, but there’s no way I can guarantee that there isn’t. They’re high school kids. They drink and smoke.”

“What about something harder?” Jared asks relatively calmly. “Can you think of anyone specifically with heroin?”

She takes a deep breath and suddenly her eyes are soft. “You think one of my students killed his step-dad with heroin?” When neither Jared nor Jensen reply and keep watching her, she sighs again. “I can’t think of one off the top of my head, but I can talk to my assistant dean and the drug task force.”

Jared and Jensen each slide a card across the counter and Jared nods slowly. “Anything you can find, it’s greatly appreciated.”

As they take the hallway out, Jensen asks, “Maybe we should check out Gage Park High. It’s not Chris’s school, but it’s not too far from here.”

He only shakes his head in reply, brain too foggy to figure out if that’s the best course of action. And if not, then what is?

Once they’re outside, Jensen puts his hand to Jared’s back, and starts to say, “Hey, you-” but Jared takes the front steps faster to break contact and gets in the car before Jensen can finish his sentence.

Jensen slides into the driver’s seat without doing anything else. He’s so obviously glaring at Jared, and Jared just keeps staring forward. “We ought to talk about this morning.”

“I’m just,” Jared says tightly then sighs. “I’m tired, running on a fucking nap, and feel like shit over this case.”

“I’m not feeling great about it either,” Jensen quickly complains.

Jared keeps looking forward. His breath comes hard and loud as he tries to will himself to calm down, though the heat inside the car only makes him more anxious and irritable.

He sighs to relax. It wouldn’t do either of them any good for him to start taking every minute between them so personally. They’re on a case; they have to focus on that.

After a few more awkward moments, Jensen huffs, turns forward, and starts the car up. As he pulls away, he spits out, “We were doing fine until this morning.”

Jared slips down a bit in the seat, rests his elbow on the inside window ledge of the door, and covers his face against the harsh August sun. “I just need some sleep or something.”

The car jerks as Jensen zips to the left and pulls a three-point turn. Jared glances over and Jensen sharply says, “Obviously you should just go home then,” before heading north on California instead of south towards Gage Park High School.

“What?” Jared squawks out.

“You’re not good to me like this. Besides, if you’re gonna be a dick about this morning, then I’d rather just go it alone for the rest of the day.”

Jared finally looks at Jensen, only getting his profile as he easily turns right onto the expressway to head back towards Jared’s apartment.

 

  


After a full afternoon of sleep, Jared had woken up fully refreshed, and headed to the station. Jensen was off on his own and it wasn’t until the next morning when Jared got a download of all that had gone on in his absence.

A trip back to the Aguileras’ yielded nothing – both Sofia and Chris denying the abuse or any involvement with Jesse’s death. A few neighbors at least verified that Chris was home the night before Jesse died.

But under Jensen’s masterful detective skills – even though Jared doesn’t yet have the full story – right now, they’re both sitting across from a 21-year-old who’d spent his formative years in and out of foster homes and the juvenile system and lately has seen his share of holding cells at 26th and California: Cook County Jail.

Steven Richardson has closely shorn hair and a barely there mustache that does little to age him. Jared’s amazed the jittery way the guy keeps tapping his feet hasn’t unsettled Jensen yet, but Jensen just keeps smiling at the guy like he has all the time in the world.

Beaver had said that Jensen had followed up on the names Jared’s contact had and around midnight, they’d shaken Richardson out of Kelly Park, a block from the Aguileras’ home. Their new suspect had a dozen dime bags of coke in his pocket and a stash of heroin twice the legal classification for _intent to sell_.

Just before they’d entered the Interrogation Room, Jensen had told Jared that he wasn’t excited about going after Chris for murder, but he’d be happy to nail this guy for everything he was carrying and then some. They both figure (hope, really) the District Attorney will go easy on Chris for the history of abuse and run after this dealer.

“Steven,” Jensen says smoothly. “Just admit it.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Richardson replies with his chin up high.

Jensen smirks and folds his hands together, thumb tapping the top of his other hand to the same nervous rhythm Richardson’s foot is making under the table.

Jared leans back and crosses his arms, letting Jensen take the lead. After all, Jensen’s the one who hauled him in; he deserves this.

“We picked you up a block from where Chris lives,” Jensen explains quickly. “You have a record of selling at the high school he goes to. And you had it _on_ you. What part is supposed to say you didn’t do it?”

“The part where I don’t know the kid,” Richardson insists as he nods towards the picture on the table. It’s Chris’s sophomore class picture, the same one that is framed in the Aguilera’s home and had made Sofia smile warmly.

Jensen turns over another photo that’s been sitting at his elbow and slowly pushes it forward. It shows the whole family: Sofia, Chris, Rosa, and Jesse. Jared watches Richardson’s eyes widen for a second before he schools his face back to stubborn anger. Jensen taps at Jesse Aguilera’s head. “Chris took your juice, shot up his step-dad, and the next morning, this guy dropped dead in Grant Park. That’s all ‘cause you just had to make a buck, no matter that it was a 15-year-old you’re selling to.”

The guy’s face pales and he slowly shakes his head. “No, no, man. I didn’t sell to that kid. I didn’t kill no dad.”

When Jensen glances at Jared, it’s like a sign, and Jared leans forward on the table. “C’mon, Stevie,” Jared taunts. He grins when Richardson scowls at the name. “Even if you didn’t mean to kill anyone, you still made a buck off some high school kid. He had a 3.8 GPA and he still knew enough to come see you. That’s gotta up your reputation, eh?”

Richardson brings both elbows up to the table, hands still held together with cuffs, and covers his mouth with his fingers. “I didn’t sell to him.”

The nerves are so obvious that Jared goes a few more inches forward and eases his voice. “You know, the amount you were found with will put you away for a good, what?” he asks in Jensen’s direction. “Ten, maybe twenty years?”

“At least,” Jensen replies.

Jared smirks at Richardson. “And those’ll be hard decades while you fend off the label of selling to kids.” Even with his mouth still covered, it’s obvious the Richardson is affected by the threat, so Jared continues. “You say yes, you sold heroin and arsenic to Chris Aguilera, and we’ll talk to the D.A. about your sentence. Maybe even a transfer somewhere that’s a little less scary for a kid like you.”

Richardson seems to think on it, squirming in the hard metal chair, feet kicking around beneath the table as he adjusts his posture. “I didn’t sell to that kid,” he says softly.

“You sure?” Jared asks, nudging the family photo even closer. “You’re one of three dealers in a ten-mile radius who’s known for arsenic. I bet if I ask the other two, they’ll say it’s you.”

“And you know what that means?” Jensen asks.

“No deal,” Jared replies for him.

Richardson drops his hands a few inches, mouth showing before he mumbles, “I want a lawyer.”

Jared’s stomach twists with anger and he can hear Jensen’s small huff of disbelief. Just a few more minutes without that declaration, and they might’ve wrapped the whole thing up. He sits back, slaps his palms hard to the table, and relishes the way Richardson jumps at the noise.

It’s a small comfort to hold when he and Jensen leave the room and find Beaver and District Attorney Tom Welling on the other side of the two-way glass.

“Pada _lecki_ ,” Welling sighs, though he looks pretty happy to be ragging on them. As always. “You used to be such a good narc. What is it – use it or lose it?”

“Fuck you,” Jared mutters, watching Richardson fidget on the other side of the glass.

Welling shakes his head and smirks. “You two always need me to sweep in and save the day in court.”

“Why don’t you go back to the farm and kiss your own ass some more, huh?” Jensen throws out.

“Someone’s got to,” Jared adds, smiling a little when he hears Jensen chuckle.

“Alright, put the rulers away,” Beaver grumbles. “Move Richardson to Room 4 and we’ll get Aguilera over here.”

“What?” Jared asks, in shock.

“Put Richardson into 4 while we wait for a public defender,” Beaver says slowly, obviously aggravated he has to explain it. “And then you can talk to Aguilera in here. You let ‘em cross paths and see who flinches first.”

“Since when is Chris here?” Jensen asks, sounding just as bothered by the situation.

“Since I told Hodge to bring him in,” Beaver replies. It’s obvious with his straight look that there’s no room for discussion.

Jared sighs, and he can tell Jensen’s tensing up, too. Neither is up for playing games with a kid who’s lived the last three years as a punching bag, but if they can get Chris to admit he bought from Richardson, at least the dealer will go down hard, without a deal.

“Alright, fine,” Jared allows.

Jensen jumps right in to insist, “I’ll talk to Chris.”

“You sure?” Jared asks, and Jensen nods silently “You brought Richardson in. You don’t wanna stick with him?”

It’s obvious when Jensen swallows hard and even if his eyes won’t meet Jared’s, Jared can tell Jensen’s got something sticking to him here and that he _really_ needs to be the one in that room with the kid.

Ten minutes later, Jensen’s talking to the Aguileras, motioning back towards Interrogation Room 1, and Jared’s leading Steven Richardson to 4. It’s noticeable when Richardson spots the family, arm tensing in Jared’s hold and feet stuttering. When Chris passes, the two boys share a look but it doesn’t last long enough to mean anything.

Jared sets Richardson in Room 4, locking another pair of cuffs between the chain of Richardson’s and the ring at the top of the table. He pats Richardson’s shoulder and smirks. “You stay put and I’m sure a lawyer will be here for you in a day or two.”

As Jared turns to the door, Richardson whines. “Man, c’mon, I gotta piss.”

Shrugging, Jared smiles again, and heads back to the observation room off of Room 1 to join Beaver and Welling. They watch Chris fidget at the table, tugging the collar of his t-shirt up on his neck as if that’ll cover the fading bruises they’d seen on Monday.

“Chris,” Jensen says softly as he sits across the table.

Chris twitches and won’t look at Jensen. “I already told you yesterday. I don’t know anything.”

Jensen tips his head to the side and breathes deep. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

Licking his lips, Jensen takes his time and slowly lifts his hand up to point towards Chris’s neck. “That doesn’t look too good.”

“I told you. It was a fight at school.”

“You’re not in school right now.”

“It was near school,” Chris insists.

Jensen slowly taps his fingers at the tabletop then spreads his fingers and plants his palm in the space between them. His voice drops so low, Jared can barely hear it through the tiny speaker besides the glass and he steps closer to watch.

“When I was 13, my parents split up. My sister went with my dad and I went with my mom. Always wanted to go with my dad instead. You know, have the guy thing going for me …” he drifts off with a gentle smile. “But, my mom wanted to keep me in the same schools with my friends. My sister was young enough she could find new ones.”

Chris is finally looking right at Jensen. That is, until Jensen drops his voice and admits, “The next year, she had a new boyfriend. He didn’t care much for kids. Especially if they were someone else’s.”

When Jensen’s finished making the statement, Chris’s eyes are aimed at his lap and his shoulders are hunched in, obviously affected by Jensen’s story. Jared is, too, judging by the way his stomach tightens and heart beats a little faster.

He’d known Jensen didn’t have a great experience with his parents’ divorce, that both parents had moved on to remarry with plenty of drama, but this is entirely new and surprising.

“Some nights,” Jensen continues, “He’d come home after a few beers with his buddies and push me around to bring him some more. Sometimes just a light shove into the kitchen, other times a kick to the ribs if I wasn’t moving fast enough.”

In sympathy, Jared rests his arm across his chest, hand closing over his ribs. He’s so transfixed by Jensen’s words that he misses Beaver stepping out until the door snicks when pulled closed again.

Jared glances over his shoulder and Welling looks for a second before frowning at the glass. Jared turns back to the interrogation and catches the tears falling down Chris’s face. No matter how Jensen’s statements have opened the boy up, Chris is still shaking his head, mumbling, “I didn’t do anything. I swear, I didn’t.”

Jensen leans down towards the table, eyes searching for Chris’s. “There were times I would have loved to get the asshole. Sometimes I hate myself for never swinging back.”

Chris’s eyes slide closed and his shoulders pull in, but he’s still shaking his head and mouthing no.

Nothing else comes from the interview and Jensen comes back into the observation room and sighs heavily. He turns his head and twists his neck to stretch, and Jared can only stare at Jensen, trying to discern how many of those words are true and how much was Jensen just doing his job to get a confession. When Welling drops his hand to Jensen’s neck, squeezing a little and patting his shoulder, Jared’s startled to find Jensen looking at him oddly.

“What now?” Jared asks quietly.

Welling shrugs. “I’ve got a warrant going in front of Brickman. It should be done in a few hours and then you can get into the house for a full search.”

“So, Chris goes back to his mom and we keep Richardson here until a defender’s free,” Jared says.

“Yeah, alright,” Jensen agrees quietly.

Jensen leads Chris Aguilera from the room and back to his family with Jared trailing behind. At the same time, Hodge is escorting Richardson back to Room 4, likely from the bathroom he’d asked Jared for. The whole time, Richardson is glancing at Sofia and Rosa with the daughter looking right back.

Jared stops. His feet won’t move and he can’t take his eyes off the 12-year-old girl standing stock still next to her mother and staring at Richardson with her face white as a ghost.

It all crashes on him at once in the most horrifying suspicion that it wasn’t Chris who stabbed his father with a needle full of heroin and arsenic.

He can’t do more than watch the family join together, Sofia wrapping an arm around each of her children and walking them out of the bullpen.

Jensen stands next to Jared, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jay?” he asks oddly, pulling Jared from his thoughts.

Jared shakes his head and feels foggy from then on, until Welling grins at them with a warrant in hand a few hours later.

It’s worse when they’re in the Aguilera’s home. A hypodermic is found stashed in the back of Rosa’s closet, and the 12-year-old admits she did it not only to stop Chris’s abuse, but her own as well. Apparently, Jesse Aguilera had better aim for the young girl; she’s got bruises along her ribs and heavier marks on her back.

 

  


Jared enters the small, neighborhood bar and finds Jensen at the end of the bar, leaning on the counter with his hands clamped around a glass of amber liquor.

Jensen doesn’t move for the half minute Jared watches him. He does flinch, however, when Jared sits on the stool next to him. He barely grants Jared a glance then drinks and sighs when he sets the glass back down.

The bartender approaches, announcing last call, and Jared orders them two more glasses of what is likely scotch.

Jared pays the bartender, takes a sip, and carefully puts the glass down. With his eyes aimed across the bar, he asks, “So, how much was true?”

“About what?” Jensen asks slowly.

“What you told Chris Aguilera.”

Jensen wastes time drinking the rest of the drink he had when Jared first came in, then takes another sip from the new glass. “You already know my parents are divorced and remarried.”

It takes all the courage Jared has to specifically ask, “What about that first boyfriend your mom had?”

As if he’s trying to show all the bravado he’s got, Jensen tips his chin up and clears his throat, but still won’t look over. “Some of it.”

“Some?”

“Most of it,” he admits.

“I never knew,” Jared says softly.

Jensen angrily laughs to himself. “And I never knew you were a homophobic asshole.”

As if the morning he’d seen the guy at Jensen’s place wasn’t hard enough on his insides, now they feel like they’re curling up beneath his skin at Jensen’s words. “I’m a what?”

“You were fine with all the jokes until you saw it for yourself, huh?” Jensen asks with a harsh look.

Jared huffs an unbelievable laugh. “I am not homophobic.”

“Then what’s your problem?” He finally turns toward Jared, still angry. “Ever since you saw me with that guy, you’ve been all,” and he motions irritably.

Never in his life has Jared had such a hard time just saying that he’s gay. It was difficult with his parents and family, sure, but they were open and understanding. Now, he keeps it to himself and doesn’t bother to defend or deny. He struggles with the words and manages to say, “Yeah, ‘cause it was _you_.”

“So, you’re fine with fags as long as your partner’s not one.”

The lights flicker on above them and Jared is distracted with watching the small crowd around them finish up their evenings and head out with the bar closing.

Jensen’s rising from his seat and dropping a few bills on the bar, Jared rises as well, offering, “You wanna get another drink at my place?”

It’s a long stare until Jensen shakes his head and says, “No, not really.”

Even though Jared wants to convince Jensen to say yes, he sighs and lets the invitation drop.

On the way out the bar, Jensen mumbles a goodbye and Jared thinks maybe the weekend will give them the chance to both calm down and they can have the conversation once the stress of this week whittled away.

 

  


Jared sits at the edge of his bed after pulling off his now-wrinkled suit pants and shirt. It’s still hot as hell with the AC still broken, but there’s a small oscillating fan working from the corner of his bedroom that brings him a bit of relief every few seconds.

His phone buzzes from where it lays near his pillows, and he reaches back to grab it. It’s Jensen, and Jared drops down to the mattress, wincing at the way the warm sheets instantly stick to his back.

“Yeah,” Jared says in greeting.

There’s silence, enough that Jared figures Jensen misdialed. Jared’s about to hang up when there’s the soft noise of Jensen clearing his throat.

“I’m outside.”

Jared twists towards the window that looks out on his street. He pulls the edge of his curtain away to see Jensen on the sidewalk holding his cell to his ear. His suit jacket is gone, the tie, too, with the sleeves of his white suit shirt folded up to his elbows. Suddenly, Jared doesn’t think Jensen’s ever looked more gorgeous.

“You still want that drink?” Jared tries.

He watches Jensen scratch through his hair, messing it up. “In that sauna? No thank you.”

Jared snorts and smiles a little. “I got a fan in the bedroom, ain’t so bad.”

Jensen glances up at the building, not immediately finding Jared’s window, but when he does, he stalls and gives a shaky wave.

When Jensen stays quiet, Jared can only prompt, “So …”

“So, we’ve both kind of been assholes lately, huh?”

“We really gonna do it like this? You down there and me up here watching you like a creeper?”

Jensen looks away, but Jared can hear a soft laugh through the phone. “Move the fan to the living room and pour me a drink.”

“Alright,” Jared says a bit happier than he’d meant to.

Jared doesn’t bother putting pants on, though he does pull a shirt on before letting Jensen inside. As requested, the round fan is slowly turning in the corner of the living room and aimed towards the couch, and Jared puts two glasses of Johnny Walker on the coffee table as Jensen drops onto the couch.

It takes a few quiet drinks over the next five minutes for Jensen to speak.

“Not everything I said was true.” When Jared looks over, Jensen adds, “About my mom’s boyfriend.”

“I’m glad you didn’t have to deal with that,” Jared says with a slow nod as he stares down at his glass.

“He was a little rough, mostly on my little sister. I knocked him good a few times for her, but he didn’t stick around once my mom saw it.” Jensen tips his head just enough to look at Jared from the corner of his eye. “I’m kinda proud of that girl for protecting her older brother.”

Jared nods and figures he can add to Jensen’s confession. “Me, too.”

Jensen nods, too, and drinks a little more.

“Hopefully family court isn’t too hard on her.”

“Yeah,” Jensen breathes out.

After a few more beats of silence, Jared summons the will to say, “I wasn’t bothered by the guy at your place because it means you’re into guys.” When he’s got Jensen’s full attention, Jared feels his nerves run off on him and he chuckles nervously. “I mean, it’s stupid that I would be.”

Jensen’s eyes flick over Jared’s face and they’re left just staring at each other.

Like yanking a band-aid, Jared spits out, “I can’t be homophobic when I’m gay.”

Next he knows, his drink is spilling over his knee, there’s a press of hot weight against his side, and Jensen’s hand is clamped around the back of his neck. They’re staring at each other and Jensen’s warm breath is wafting over Jared’s lips.

Jared slowly brings his hand over Jensen’s hip, and he sees how Jensen’s long eyelashes flutter when he closes his hand over Jensen’s side. Then he just takes it, leaning forward to smash their mouths together, snaking his hand around Jensen’s back, and pulling him closer.

He can hear and _feel_ Jensen’s short moan when their lips adjust and open together, tongues slipping a second later and swiping hot and wet. The touch of Jensen’s tongue, the heat of his mouth, the taste of him, is more than Jared had ever imagined, and he groans as he shifts to the side so Jensen can settle against him. Their legs slip together, hips pressing just right, and Jared has to groan again.

Jensen slides his hand over the side of Jared’s thigh and under, pulling Jared’s leg up to rock down, and Jared has no clue when he’ll stop embarrassing himself by all the deep noises coming from his chest.

Jared grabs at the back of Jensen’s shirt, already damp with sweat and matching Jared’s own tee, and immediately he wants to tear both of their shirts off. He tugs hard on Jensen’s, pulling it out from Jensen’s belt so he can get his hands underneath, fingers sliding in the sweat across Jensen’s smooth back. When he does, Jensen pushes down hard into Jared’s groin, and Jared shoves up so quickly they turn over the side of the couch and drop to the floor hard.

He looks down to Jensen in shock and then they smirk at each other and he drops down to kiss widely. As Jensen drags Jared’s shirt up, Jared shifts back and tries to catch his breath and think for a second. They’re finally - _finally_ \- on the same page, after two years of joking and flirting and dancing around each other, and Jared so wants to take this further.

“Bedroom?” Jared suggests between harsh breaths.

“It’s fucking hot in there, ain’t it?”

They’re both covered in sweat and Jensen’s face is pink and glowing, hair mussed up worse than when he first showed up. Jared laughs and smiles at Jensen. “It’s hot in here, too.”

Jensen pulls on the middle of Jared’s shirt, brings him down so he can say at his lips, “Bring the fan then.”

Jared laughs again; it’s unlikely that will do them any good, but what the hell. He gets up and over to the other side of the room to unplug the fan, and when he turns back, Jensen’s sitting up and staring at him, eyes roaming his whole body, always returning to Jared’s obvious bulge. His dick is painfully hard in his cotton boxer briefs, and Jensen’s long look isn’t helping at all.

A second later, Jensen smiles a little and it lights up his face. Jared feels feeling the warmth of it in his chest.

In the bedroom, the fan does very little even when they’re stripping each other of their clothes and falling into bed. Their sweat makes it easier to slide, dicks pressing together as they rock. Jared runs is palm over Jensen’s hip, down the side, and gropes the meat of Jensen’s thigh, pulling it snug against his own. He goes further under, fingers gripping Jensen’s ass as Jensen wraps his arms tightly around Jared’s neck and forces a hard kiss.

When Jared’s fingers graze Jensen’s hole, Jensen arches and moans. “Oh, fuck, yeah,” he pants into Jared’s mouth.

It’s so uncoordinated as Jared hurries to the edge of the bed and grabs lube and a condom from his bedside table. Jensen goes with him, sucking along the column of Jared’s throat. He hits a spot just beneath Jared’s ear, and Jared can’t breathe with the tingle racing down his spine and making him shiver no matter how stuffy and hot it is in his bedroom.

Jared pushes at Jensen’s chest to force him to the mattress and closes his eyes for a second. “Alright, you can’t do that when I’m trying to focus.”

Jensen chuckles and reaches up to rub his thumb over that spot, smirking when Jared shivers again. “Always thought you looked good in suits, but you’re fucking amazing right now,” Jensen grounds out, voice wrecked and heated.

Swallowing hard, Jared nods in agreement, because the vision of Jensen’s slicked chest rising and falling and his wild eyes intent on Jared’s face are a fantastic sight, too.

He covers his fingers in lube and presses the tip of his index just inside Jensen, relishing the deep growl Jensen gives off as he tips his hips higher, encouraging Jared to push in further, and he does. He works his finger in and out, and when Jensen strokes Jared’s dick in the same rhythm, Jared works his second finger in.

As he watches Jensen’s hole stretch around both his fingers as they slide in and out, Jensen’s hand slows and squeezes on occasion as he ruts down on Jared’s hand.

 _Dear God_ , Jared’s mind spins. He wonders how much longer he’ll last with just the picture of Jensen moving on his fingers and Jensen’s hand wrapped tight around his dick. “This ain’t gonna last long,” Jared admits with a breathy laugh.

“We’ve waited long enough,” Jensen replies.

He nods and figures it’s about right and pulls his fingers out. He fumbles to get the condom on, hands wet with lube and sweat, but once he’s ready, he nudges his dick at Jensen’s hole and slowly presses in. Jensen’s groan matches Jared’s own, and Jared slides in so they’re hips to ass. Jensen hitches his hips up higher, keeping Jared in place, and Jared loses his balance and will stay upright, falling forward, pressing his hands into the mattress on either side of Jensen’s head.

Jared keeps his eyes open and focused on Jensen’s bright green eyes. For another few long moments, he stays locked tight against Jensen just so savor the feeling.

There’s a sharp shock through his belly when Jensen rolls his hips, and Jared goes with it. He snaps his hips against Jensen’s ass, sweat making their skin smack together as he drives into Jensen over and over and over again.

“Fuck, yes, yes,” Jensen pants and grabs onto Jared’s sides, fingers constantly slipping through sweat.

His rhythm falters when he feels Jensen clenching around him, but it’s good anyway, because he feels heat flare up beneath his skin and settle low in his gut. His mind flips through the past two years of dark looks, innuendos, and random touches, and he can’t hold back any longer. He fucks Jensen hard and fast with Jensen’s hands tight around his hips, pulling him in just as fast, and then swears when Jensen comes over his own hand.

Jared rears back and pounds in hard, pulling whimpered curses from them both, and a few more times is all Jared needs until he comes buried deep inside Jensen.

His arms collapse and he drops his head beside Jensen’s. He breathes fast and hard with Jensen’s own harsh breaths in his ear. Their chests and hips are pressed tight together, damp with come and sweat, but Jared can’t drum up the energy to move just yet. He registers the warmth of Jensen beneath and around him for as long as he can before he slowly pulls out of Jensen, rolls over to his side, and gets rid of the condom in the wastebasket beside the bed.

After a long sigh, Jensen makes a soft noise as he runs his hand down his own chest. “God, I need a shower.”

“Gimme ten,” Jared mumbles.

“Minutes?”

“Hours. I can’t move.”

Jensen softly chuckles and Jared slowly smiles. Jared pushes errant hair off his damp forehead and looks up to find Jensen’s head angled towards him, eyes glazed over.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Jared murmurs.

“For 100-degree heat, not at all.”

Jared turns his face into the mattress and groans. He smiles, though, when he can smell sweat and sex and _Jensen_ in the sheets. “You’re never gonna stop giving me shit over the AC, are you?”

“Never.”

When the mattress shifts, Jared glances up to find Jensen getting out of bed and hunting down his clothes. He’s not happy that Jensen’s leaving so soon, though he’ll admit the clear view of Jensen’s tight ass and the strong lines of his back are a great sight, muscles bulging when he uses an errant towel from Jared’s floor to clean himself off.

As Jensen tugs his boxers up his legs and over his hips, Jared shifts up with his elbow on the mattress and cheek in his hand. “What’s up?” he asks as level as possible.

Jensen slides his white, still-damp undershirt over his head and gives Jared a tired look. “Seriously? Your apartment is hot as hell.”

Jared snorts. “So why’re you putting your clothes back on?”

“Going home to my air conditioning,” he replies as he finds his pants and shakes them out. He gets them up to his waist and his eyes slowly slide up Jared’s body, meeting Jared’s gaze with a sly look. “You coming?”

He doesn’t think he rushes to get out of bed, but Jensen’s laughing, so he probably did, and it’s likely not scaring Jensen that he’s anxious to keep this up. Especially somewhere cooler.

On his way to the bathroom, Jared smacks Jensen’s ass and grins. “I will be coming as often as possible.”

Jensen barks a laugh then snatches Jared’s wrist and pulls him back in. “I’m counting on it,” he murmurs before he kisses Jared soundly.

Jared holds Jensen’s neck with his thumbs sliding over his jaw and deepens the kiss. He hums as he pulls away and stares at Jensen’s soft look. It’s the exact look he’s been dying for two years to have from Jensen.

Suddenly, he thinks about work and begins to worry how it’ll manage to happen.

The Force isn’t exactly open to working relationships, especially between partners, and Jared knows a number of guys he’s gone through the ranks with who won’t take kindly to Jared or Jensen being gay.

“Gonna have to set a few ground rules,” Jared says slowly. “For work and whatever.”

Jensen’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “Are you seriously gonna ruin this by talking?”

Jared laughs, but still admits, “I don’t have sex while on a case.”

Taking a short step back, Jensen breaks their contact. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

It seems like Jensen’s not entirely offended, just shocked in a somewhat amused way. “My brain’s sharper when I’m not worried about getting laid.”

“You are insane.”

“I’m serious.”

Jensen huffs, sort of laughing really, as he zips and buttons his slacks up. Then he shakes his head. “Alright, whatever, still insane.”

“And no one should know.” Jensen looks up at him, waiting for some sort of explanation. “I mean, we can’t go around having people know we’re doing …” Jared motions nervously between them, because he’s not sure how Jensen would react to labels, though he feels pretty sure Jensen’s not thinking this is a one-night stand for them either. “Whatever this is.”

Taking a deep breath, Jensen adjusts his stance and suddenly he seems more like Detective than someone who was utterly debauched with hot sex. “We have like a day, maybe, until we’ll get called in for another case. Can we just have a grace period where we’re not worrying about the job?”

Jared sighs and runs a hand through his hair, lightly cupping the back of his warm, damp neck. He’s suddenly extremely aware that Jensen is back to clothed and he’s still standing there completely naked while trying to have this conversation. There’s no point in fighting it right now, and Jensen is entirely too right. Their careers are tiresome and demanding, and he and Jensen are both extremely dedicated to the job. But they deserve a break once in a while to just be themselves, too.

Nonetheless, he has to admit, “If this is a one-time thing, we can’t really talk about it.” Jensen’s eyes narrow a little and his face is pinched, as if he’s affected by Jared’s words but isn’t ready to respond. Jared’s pretty sure he’s at least got this look down, and it’s kind of good new that Jensen isn’t agreeing with him on the _one-time thing_ factor. “Just, with some boundaries, I think we can make something work.”

“Yeah, alright, I agree with that,” Jensen says slowly before tugging on Jared’s hips to bring him back in. “But we’re not talking about this. We’re gonna go back to my icebox, fuck around some more, then we’ll sort it all out.”

Jared grins and sucks a kiss into the edge of Jensen’s jaw. “I can definitely go for some more fucking around.”

Jensen leans into him, squeezing Jared’s waist, and then pushes him away. “Get dressed. We’re leaving this sauna. Now.”

“Alright,” Jared concedes with a smile.

“And I’m not coming back here until you get the air fixed.”

Now Jared can’t stop his grin. “Fine,” he nods. And then softly runs his hand across Jensen’s dick as he steps away.

“Asshole,” Jensen mutters, slapping Jared’s hand away.

Jared doesn’t give a shit what Jensen calls him. Not when they’ve got a break and time to waste together.


End file.
